Indian Wedding Tales

T E J A L : part III

I could only mutely follow Rakesh back to the elevator after what occurred downstairs. The broken pieces of my heart had to come together and glue back like nothing had happened. Because I couldn't be the one to turn away from my children. 

It's was close to 9:15 and I had no clue what I was going to put on the table for dinner. When we reached our house, I brought my keys from my purse and opened the door. 

I gulped down as I roamed my eyes across the living room. Mother was no where to be seen and both my children were staring back at me. The moment Rakesh stepped into the house, Ansh sprung out of his seat, rushing to hug his father and giggling like he's received the world.

"Papa! You're home early today!"

I didn't want to hear anything more so I walked into the bedroom and carefully laid the chart paper under the mattress, hoping that it turned in a good condition tomorrow morning. With the corner of my dupatta, I dabbed at my eyes. The sting still burned. 

Glancing at myself in the mirror, I held back a sob. Instead, I put my hair in a bun and quietly retreated to the kitchen. There was some leftover sabzi from the afternoon and some bread I could toast for Shrey and Ansh. It could work for them. 

No one else was going to have anything. I definitely wasn't going to. 

I switched on the stove and began heating slices of bread. Outside, Ansh's happiness was spilling from his voice. He was gushing on and on about the past two weeks, what his father had missed, which friend of his pushed his cycle into a ditch and what was taught in social studies by the strict teacher. 

"Mom" 

Ouch!

There was a sizzle and a jump before my hand instinctively flew away from the hot pan. Heat ran on the edges of my fingers and I rushed to the sink to put it under the running tap. Shrey stood on the entrance. 

"Is Dad coming to my performance?"

I looked away and began nursing my finger. The tender skin was burning beyond imagination and I smelled the bread burning too. Wiping my other hand with a cloth, I took down the toasted breads and began getting the plates. 

"Mom, it's next week."

I carried the plates and food to the dinning table before returning to get water. 

"I'm supposed to collect passes in advance!"

I filled the jug full of water and settled the glasses on the tray. 

"Why are you not saying anything! Is he coming or not!"

"WHY DON'T YOU ASK HIM YOURSELF"

Here I was, working all round the clock, without break. Relying on no one but myself and acting like I wasn't hurt with all the betrayal, with all the ignorance, and with all the disrespect. 

"Just ask him yourself," I barely controlled myself for lashing out at him. 

I didn't want him to be let down like me. But sometimes, children needed to learn. 

"I will be there. I don't know about your father," With those last words to Shrey I switched off the lights in the kitchen and walked back to the dining table. 

"Mom, can I have toast and jam?" Ansh leaped to my feet. 

"Whatever, go get it yourself" I muttered and walked into my bedroom, ready to sink into the bed and close my eyes. I didn't miss the way both Ansh and his father looked at me after my blunt response. 

Back in my bedroom,  I drew the curtains and switched all lights prepared to call this day off. Wanting nothing more than the embrace of soft pillows and blankets that wouldn't hurl abuses. 

******

I wasn't sure what time it was, but I was sure, in the middle of night, on the bed beside me, someone was sniffling. And that someone was my husband, Rakesh.

I tried get back to sleep, to mute out his throaty sounds and just rest. But.... I couldn't.

The heart yearned for some healing after the burn. But it didn't want to see Rakesh go deeper in his state of destruction. 

Ignoring the logical part of me, I turned around and noticed the bedside lamp was on. It's yellow light washing hitting the side of Rakesh's face. He was still in his office clothes, smelling of diluted alcohol and ash. 

I wondered how he explained that to the boys. It was a good thing his mother wasn't there. 

"Dad would have been ashamed of your behavior today," I don't from where I managed to speak that. 

"I know," Rakesh spoke. His voice coarse. "But he isn't here"

Something pricked my eyes again. 

"It wasn't in our hands," I spoke after two minutes. 

"I had so many plans for us, I needed to learn so much from him," Rakesh's voice broke with every word. I was compelled to sit up and place my hand on his shoulder. My eyes moistened. 

"It wasn't in our hands," I repeated, barely keeping it together. "All you can do now is be the person, your father would be proud of"

Rakesh looked at me, his eyes sad and heavy. He caught me by surprise when he leaned forward and placed his head in my lap. A moment later, his body shook with sobs he had suppressed all these weeks. 

His cries were muffled and my hand was running up and down his back. I let my tears fall too. 

The grief was too heavy to carry alone and right now in the middle of night, Rakesh had decided to finally put it down.

I don't remember when we stopped crying and  fell asleep. Rakesh apologized over and over again. I made him promise that he wouldn't ever turn away from his family. No matter how difficult our boys got, no matter how stubborn our mother got. Rakesh added another to it. 

He promised to take our father's place and be my chai partner. 

Finally, no more headaches, I had thought.